


Happy Accident

by Faetality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Canon Typical Violence, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, but almost none, steterweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: To save Stiles Peter has to do something, anything, he just doesn’t expect anything to mean everything.





	Happy Accident

“Stiles! Stiles, wake up!” Peter moves fast, faster than the pack, faster than the shadow creature with the claws like knives. At least he’s fast enough for the others to distract it. Stiles wasn’t moving. There was blood everywhere. 

Peter hits the ground hard, grips the pale wrist and pulls. He draws on the pain until the black crawls up to his shoulder, until the pulse jack rabbits under his fingers and he can’t control how his eyes flare blue. The fight dulls out and all that he can hear is Stiles’ heart beat, all he can feel is the way the pale skin is still warm, _ alive, _ and all he can see is how his lashes lay against his cheeks. Deep in his chest, far deeper than any physical thing could live, something pulses and flares bright, he jerks, gasps, feels tears sting his eyes but he can’t move, can’t close them. 

Stiles opens his eyes and cold, steel blue meets bright, shining silver. 

Peter lets go. 

*

Peter runs. There’s not another word for it. When those silver eyes locked on his own he was, for once in his life, lost for what to do. The warmth in his chest is unmistakable for a born wolf. It’s bright and warm and beautiful and it makes him want to howl in sheer agony. It was a bond. A bright bond that pulsed with love and warmth and happiness and the idea that it would break if he dared let himself believe it might stay... he can’t do it. So he runs. He locks his door and ignores his phone. 

He doesn’t want to see the blame in their eyes. 

Stiles takes away that choice. 

It’s two am when someone begins pounding on his door. It doesn’t relent after a full minute and then he hears his name, a desperate and borderline angry “Peter! Peter, open up! Please!” The boy had barely been back a week when the fight went down. He hadn’t even known he was a were now. He couldn’t be blamed. It was an accident. He wanted it but it was still an accident. Stiles could be reasoned with. He opens the door. 

Stiles looks like hell. The bags beneath his eyes were dark, his skin held a sheen of sweat and his hand trembled where it was still raised to continue it’s assault on Peter’s door. “Stiles.” 

“What is this?“

“I don’t-“

“No. No no no no No. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. Ever since the fight I’ve felt...” A deep breath. “I can feel you. It’s not a bad feeling but it’s right there all the time and it hurts and I just need to know what this is.” 

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and asks, “What did you do?” 

Peter feels the words rush out, “You were dying. I couldn’t let you die and I didn’t mean to create a bond but it happened. I’m not sorry it happened but I am sorry I couldn’t ask you first.” 

Stiles pushes his chest gently, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. “So what do we do?” 

“We could break it. If that’s what you want.” He keeps his voice neutral. Doesn’t let him see how much he wants this to stay. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“No.” 

“Then we could see where this goes.” Stiles is standing close. “What do you think?” 

“The longer we wait the harder it will be.”

“Peter,” Stiles reaches out, places a hand on his arm with a smile, “It's okay.”

*

Stiles tells him about turning, how he was in Wisconsin on a field mission, a consultant and little more. How everything had gone downhill fast with claws that sunk deep in his thigh and it was turn or leave his dad alone in the world. Death had never been an option. He never said wolf though. It made Peter curious. 

He tells him while they share food in a tiny diner and he flashes that same goofy grin from high school that said it was all just fine. 

Peter tells him about Beacon Hills in the time he’s been away. How’s things were still active but calmer than they used to be. How he’s been better since taking position as guardian. How he blames Scott’s return and the “pack reunion” for the shadow creature. That gets a laugh, a wise crack about how if Stiles is such bad luck why did he want him around? 

They share their pasts. Little desires and wants. They share music and movies. They share pieces of themselves while navigating the bond. Peter had asked what itf felt like to Stiles only once, near the beginning. He’d answered slowly. “It’s like…. like that feeling you get in winter where you’re freezing cold because your jacket isn’t heavy enough but you step inside and pick up some hot chocolate and everything is better. When you were gone, after- that first day it was like cold air in my lungs and I couldn’t breathe right. Now… now it’s warm and I don’t know. I sound stupid, don’t I?”

“Not at all.” 

Peter understood. The want to be closer, how rightly it settled in his chest. They had barely been together three weeks before it became too much. When Stiles was one moment sitting by his side and the next had climbed into his lap, lips on his own. Everything felt  _ right.  _ Felt right in a way the world hadn’t felt since long before the fire. 

*

The bond strengthens. Others take notice but wisely say nothing. Then the full moon comes. Stiles spent the day with Peter, working out his excess energy by reading, running, or pinning Peter to the floor and  _ riding _ until he could settle himself down. Peter can’t find it in himself to complain…. much. 

When the sun is down they find themselves at the preserve. Peter folds his shirt and lays it in the seat of the Cobra, sets shoes and socks with it, leaving him in the sweatpants he owned specifically for full moon runs. He watched as Stiles does the same and to go a step further and strip to his boxers. Peter is curious but says nothing. Stiles, for his part, grins. “So uh, I sometimes can’t really control how far my shift goes…” he doesn’t get further as the moon reaches its peak. Peter slips into his beta shift but Stiles… Stiles stands in front of him in a full shift. He’s beautiful and Peter shouldn’t be surprised. He crouches, extends a hand with a smile until the silver fox comes forward and sets it’s muzzle in his palm. The bond pulses warmly. “You’re full of surprises, Stiles.” 

*

They never do dissolve the bond. It grows and grows stronger, winding its way into every facet of their lives though they never make any attempt to do otherwise. They spent days and nights together and as the bond grew stronger they spent more time apart, always returning to their shared bed at the end of the day. It is while laying in bed one evening, fingers running idly through Stiles’ hair, long as he’d let it grow, that the young man speaks words Peter never expected to hear. 

“You can’t create a bond from one side. Both parties have to want it.” 

They never mention it again. 

**Author's Note:**

> My first year participating in Steter Week!


End file.
